The Difference between Love and Cameras
by emma knightly
Summary: Another frusterating conversation for Wilson and House. I do not own..but if i did, i could rule the world. I would like reviews! Seriously...i need some reviews to see if i should keep writing!


This was getting old fast! For what seemed like an eternity to Dr. House, it was actually only fifteen minutesHe and Wilson, well mostly Wilson, were rehashing a discussion that they'd been having for months…

"Say it!" Wilson begged, massaging his tired eyes.

"There's nothing to say," House insisted while tapping his fingers along to Bohemian Rhapsody that played loudly in the background. The hospital had been closed for the night so he could mosh to Metallica if he wished. Not that it mattered to House who he bothered, although his leg had been slowing his moshing days a bit. But…Queen seemed to capture the specific kind of hell he now lived in.

"Will you turn that down and talk to me!"

Knowing full well what reaction he would get, House stated, "Jimmy…," happily watching his friend cringe. "I think you've been to one too many marriage counselors. You're starting to talk like a chick."

Then he immediately downed a couple of vicodin, which House hoped would make the conversation a little more fun. No such luck! He was still bored, still frustrated, and no closer to getting Wilson out of his office.

"Just say you like her! I'm not asking you to say love," Wilson said even though he knew better.

House limped across the room and began to search his desk drawers for something distracting. _"Gameboy? ...damn…batteries dead…hmmm…ah, the tennis ball. Enjoyment for me and noise for James to compete with…seems fair."_

"Come pound on! pound One pound of pound these pound days…

"What!" He shouted, surprising Wilson and letting the ball get away from him. "One of these days…What?" He continued coldly, turning his gaze outside. "Me and the duckling gonna get a special tingle in our hearts for each other, go on a date that's not as awkward as hell, get married and live uncomfortably ever after?"

There was a hateful pause until Wilson asked, "Why not?"

"It just shouldn't happen…" House said with a tired sigh. Possibly talking only to himself and not to his friend, this made the oncologist sit up.

"Shouldn't? Well, I'll admit the two of you aren't the most obvious pair, but…it could work…if you gave it a chance in hell." Wilson laughed in irritation, "maybe if you stopped trying to be House the enigma, it just may work."

House glanced at Wilson then back to the window. "You'd better stop talking or I'll beat you with my friend here," House threatened, twirling his cane high enough for Wilson to see.

"What kind of intimidation tactic is that?" Wilson asked, looking very amused. "You already take swings at me for no reason."

"I did no such thing and as my so called friend, you should know the difference between a beating and a love tap."

Wilson looked at House confused," And that would be?"

"Spiked accessories," House answered nonchalantly before he began to spin in his chair from boredom. All his goodies and time wasters were either out of commission or had rolled away. So that was the next best thing to buying batteries or simply getting up.

"Say it and I'll…" Wilson thought for a moment to find something House really wanted, "I'll take your clinic duties for the next two days."

"Two weeks."

"Wait, no! Four days!"

"A week."

"Fine!" Wilson agreed feeling both satisfied and cheated at the same time. "Now say it!"

House began to spin even faster in his chair that should have been retired from House's abuse a long time ago.

Wilson wished he could turn down the music but that would be pressing his luck.

"I …Love…Camer-" Wilson began coughing erratically before House stopped his chair in time to see his door was opened wide and as soon as his eye's adjusted, he wanted to shoot himself, and Wilson too.

Dr. Cameron stood at his door with some files, letters, and a knowing smile on her delicate face.

Wilson smothered himself with a pillow to keep from laughing, which he was sure would be followed by a spiked cane upside his head.

"I'm sorry Dr. House for interrupting." Cameron apologized while placing the paperwork on his desk with an even wider smile on her face then before. "What is it that you love?"

"Um…I…um…love…cam…er…AS! Cameras!"

"What?" Both Wilson and Cameron dryly repeated together.

Cameron decided to pick. "I didn't know you like photography."

House regained his cool and let his wits take over. "Yes, in fact, I'm in charge of the photo shoot for the calendar."

Cameron looked in disbelief at the length he'd go and asked "What Calendar?"

"Yeah, _which_ calendar is that?" Wilson mused, immediately given a scathing glare from House.

"The hotties of PPTH and ya know-," House stopped to give Cameron the once over, "there's always room for one more hottie. But Cuddy already took dibs on July; she really wanted to be the naughty nurse."

"Really?" Cameron said playing along.

"Oh, yes! But don't worry, you can be the naughty candy striper. Better hurry up and take the offer, the Aussie wombat has been begging me to let him be the candy striper. He even bought his own outfit."

"Well then, if he already has the outfit, I'd better let him have it." Cameron suddenly remembered why she was there. "Oh, and the Hill girl in 302 still has the fever, what should we do?"

"Probably try to get her temp down, I suppose but you're the doctor and well I guess so am I, judging by my 'World's Best Doctor' cup I stole from Cuddy's office.

Cameron rolled her eyes "How should we do that?"

"Steal a cup? Oh, wait! You mean," House gave a wink, "oh got it… the meds she's on don't play well with each other. So, use ice packs until morning, then we'll revaluate."

"Thanks, I'll try that," she said before immediately leaving the room.

House got up to close the door and picked up the stray ball on the way.

"Smooth!" Wilson teased instantly having a ball thrown at his head that barely missed him.

"Shut up!" House muttered, "And you owe me a camera so don't be cheap."


End file.
